Forgive me
by Lady Emzebel
Summary: Post-Omatsuri Island. Sanji broods on Zoro's betrayal during the gondola race and is surprised whilst doing the washing up. Rated T for language and innuendo. Oneshot.


Title: Forgive Me

Pairings: Zoro/Sanji

Rating: T

Timeframe: Post-Omatsuri Island (from movie six, _Baron Omatsuri and the Secret Island_)

Warnings: Spoilers for the movie, maybe a bit of OOC (my bad T_T)

Disclaimer: One Piece is not mine. If it were Sanji would have a tramp-stamp and Zoro a nipple piercing.

A/N: You know, of the three kids that star in this movie, only one is given a name: Daisy. Therefore, I took it upon myself to name the other two. Sorry if they seem a bit OOC, but I couldn't think of anything better. Their dad (yeah, the skinny, half-naked dude with the specs and the cool hat) will be known as Papa.

-----X3-----

"...and you're absolutely sure that you wanna stay here?" Luffy asked, uncharacteristically sincere, as he shook the hand of the bespectacled young man known as Papa.

"Of course mugiwara," confirmed Papa. "After all, it will be a while till Daisy, Rose, Nicky and I will set sail again. We did come here originally for a vacation, you know."

He turned and smiled at the three children behind him--two girls, one boy--as they bade tearful farewells to "Mr. Reindeer". Chopper, in return, hugged them all, though none as earnestly as the youngest girl, Daisy, to whose tiny waist he clung tightly.

Aboard the Merry Go, the rest of the crew waited and watched these goodbyes patiently from their respective spots; Usopp from the crow's nest, Nami from the galley window, Robin from the brow, Zoro from his spot propped against the mast, and Sanji as far away from the swordsman as he could possibly get.

The latter of the group, being a sentimental romantic at heart, paid particular attention to these goodbyes. Leaning against the Merry Go's railing, a cigarette held nonchalantly between his lips, he turned his attentions back to Luffy and Papa as the short, moustached man (_Brief...was that his name? _Sanji wondered) piped up.

"Don't worry mugiwara, with Baron Omatsuri and his carnivorous botanical gone, we have no need to live here in fear any more. I expect we'll stay here until we've got a ship and enough supplies to get this young man here and his children home." Papa nodded at this and voiced his agreement.

"Well, alright then," conceded Luffy, grinning widely. "Good luck!" And with that, Luffy stretched one rubbery arm to grab Chopper (and not a moment too soon; the little doctor was inches away from being dragged into another watery group hug) and the other to grab the side of the Merry Go, affectively launching them both onto the deck with surprisingly little damage...for once.

"Bye Luffy-san! Bye, bye Mr. Reindeer! Bye everyone!" yelled Daisy from beside her older siblings, grinning toothily and waving as her eyes shone with tears.

Despite himself, Sanji found his sullen mouth curving into an indulgent grin and he waved back.

_What a cutie._

Glancing at his crew mates, Sanji saw them reacting similarly, even Zoro, the resident grouch. Sensing eyes on him, the swordsman turned in Sanji's direction. The cook turned away, averting his eyes.

_Damn weight-slave! How the hell does he do that?_ Sanji groaned inwardly.

Before the Merry pulled away from the shore, another shout came from the beach.

"Oi! Mugiwara!"The moustached man was holding his pointer finger sideways under his nose. "Moustache!"

"MOUSTACHE!" Luffy echoed twice as loud, imitating the gesture to a tee. Then he fell about laughing his mad Luffy laughter while his nakama sweat-dropped puddles onto the deck. Fighting off resigned embarrassment, Nami took it upon herself to catch the wind in the sails and pull their little caravel further out to sea, towards their next destination.

The shouted goodbyes and well-wishes lasted long after both parties were well out of earshot, and only stopped completely when the ship was lost over the horizon. By that time the sunset was painting the evening sky with vibrant hues and lending a deep golden gleam to the undulating ocean. Back on the snow-white beach of Omatsuri Island, Brief turned to Papa and his children Daisy, Nicky, and Rose (four people he would, in the near future, come to think of as his family), and smiled more widely than he had in a long time.

"Come on then," he said, patting Papa on the elbow, "I think it's about time we had a nice cooked dinner, and some cups of hot cocoa while we plan what we do next."

Noises of assent followed this, as the family quartet, and the newest addition they would come to know as "Uncle", disappeared suddenly into one of the many hidden tunnels, heading for the home base.

Meanwhile, on the Merry Go, Luffy's stomach growled, which it frequently tended to do. This was quickly followed by the ever familiar shout that every member of the Straw-hat crew would recognise anywhere:

"Sanji....FOOOOD!"

-----X3-----

In Sanji's humble (or perhaps, not-so-humble) opinion, the food had been excellent.

The ingredients had all been fresh and high quality (generously supplied by Brief), he'd had a relatively easy time preparing it (Usopp had managed to keep Luffy occupied long enough to prevent any unwelcome interruptions), the crew had enjoyed it more than usual and even Sanji's precious ladies, Nami-swan and Robin-chwan (who normally didn't eat much) helped themselves to multiple servings of everything.

All the same, Sanji felt crappy. No, Sanji felt shitty. To be honest, no matter how or whichever way you put it, Sanji was in a bad mood, plain and simple.

It might have been because he'd run out of cigarettes, having smoked his last one not an hour before. But it wasn't.

It might have been because he'd refused help in the kitchen after supper (God knows why), leaving him with an enormous pile of washing up to do.

But it wasn't.

Sanji was in a bad mood, namely because of a certain green-haired, sword-toting nakama of his (one whom he refused to name anything other than bastard/marimo/shit-head in his fury), was _ignoring _him.

_Of all the goddamned pretentious, self-righteous shitty bastards..._Sanji fumed as he viciously scrubbed a grease-caked baking tray. After all, it wasn't like _Zoro _had the damn right to mad, especially at him, Sanji, not after the life-saver incident in the gondola race.

_The bastard pushed _me_! He got himself out of the way and pushed _me _in his place! And he still has the nerve to ignore me afterwards when I make him face up to his goddamned cowardice! Bastard!_

Had Sanji been smoking a cigarette at this time, he would have most certainly bitten straight through the filter in his angst.

After Luffy had defeated Baron Omatsuri, and freed them from the digestive tract of that stupid plant thing (a story recounted to the Straw-hat crew by an enthusiastic Brief), he had, successfully, counselled Usopp and Nami (employing a bit of help from Robin-chwan) through a unanimous apology. Henceforth, the navigator and the sniper had been getting on as well as they ever had before their excursion to the island, perhaps even better.

From Sanji and Zoro, on the other hand, Luffy had only managed to drag a few mumbled words of repent, and even those had been pretty sketchy. Perhaps the captain and his tactful archaeologist might have done more to reconcile their hot-headed nakama had Usopp's suggestion that they "hug it out" not resulted in the cook and swordsman chasing the terrified sniper all the way around the island until they all but collapsed of exhaustion. After that, the grumpy pair was left to their own devices.

_And why not? It's not like we've never fought before._ Sanji squirted more detergent into the dirty water and reached for yet another dish. _In fact, it's nearly all we ever do the two, being so at odds with each other. Even so, it's never come between us before. Nakama or not, both of us know we have a bond, whatever form it might take._

_Yeah, but we've never had a fight like this_, the other side of Sanji's conscience argued as he pondered this last train of though. _In fact, this is probably the closest we've ever had to an actual lovers' quarrel. The other's before this were trivial...immaterial...unimportant. We both know that they don't mean anything. This one does._

_It's entirely that bastard's fault. I swear to god, I'll kick him through a damn wall or two...or three. No, make that four._

_Perhaps Usopp was right...maybe hugging it out would have helped._

_Like hell, you know damned well how horny that shitty bushido-brain is capable of getting. He's premature too._

_Well that was more than a little bitchy..._

_How many voices are inside my head! _Sanji despaired, sagging forward and dejectedly thudding his head against the rim of the sink.

_And for that matter, why is this bothering me so much? I'm a big boy now, and a pretty damn sexy independent one at that. Why should I care if the damn marimo is so immature he sulks instead of apologising and getting on with life?_

If Sanji was to be completely honest with himself, he'd known the answer to that the second the question crossed his mind. Although the cook would have rather chewed his own balls off (and his precious hands for that matter) than admit it, Sanji was only truly upset because he missed his green-haired significant other...a lot.

It's kinda cute in a squealing-fangirly kind of way when you think that they'd only been not talking to each other for just under twenty-four hours.

This very same though entered Sanji's head a second later. The second after that, he seriously contemplated drowning himself in the sink. Indeed, Sanji was so immersed in his semi-realistic thoughts of suicide he failed to hear the galley door open...and close...and footsteps approaching...then deafening silence.

Sanji only noticed the presence when it was standing right behind him, and he tensed. Forcing himself to visibly relax, he plunged his hands back into the warm sudsy water, continuing to wash, then dry, then stack.

He didn't speak, and neither did the figure behind him.

Fine. Two could play at _that _game.

Five dishes later and Sanji had never found himself wishing for a cigarette more. Still the figure behind him didn't speak.

Ten dishes later and Sanji was attempting to not steadily chew a hole through his right cheek. Still the figure behind him didn't speak.

Fifteen dishes later and Sanji was starting to sweat, a tic beside his left eye vibrating violently. Still the goddamned shitty figure _did not_ speak!

Twenty dishes later the washing up still wasn't done--not even close, a mountain still remained--and Sanji snapped.

"Come for some booze have you?" he sneered, converting all his angst and inner turmoil into something ugly and condescending he could throw at the man standing silently behind him. "Shitty boozer, you know where it is, no need to bother me for it." There was no reply.

Seriously unnerved, Sanji reached for a dish towel and dried his hands.

"Oi...marimo. You deaf or something? Spent too long banging pieces of metal together...damn swordsman?"

Silence. One beat...two beats.

Freaked out beyond belief (since when did Zoro ignore a direct taunt like that?) Sanji finally whipped around, an irritable scowl plastered across his face.

"Look, what the fuck do you..." the rest of his sentence was lost as Sanji was abruptly slammed against the wall, hands held above his head by a pair much larger and rougher, and silenced by a mouth pressed to his. Only momentarily was Sanji immobile with shock, then the outraged cook lashed out viciously with his deadly legs, attempting to send Zoro through the wall, but to no avail. The swordsman had thought ahead; attacking only when Sanji faced him, forcing himself between slender thighs so as to pin the short-tempered blond before even a single kick landed.

Humiliated and enraged that Zoro had outwitted him thus, Sanji was sorely tempted to bite the other man's tongue off...had it actually been in his mouth. As it was, there was nothing but the dry, almost chaste pressure of lips against his, pressing with an urgency bordering on desperation.

Realising this, Sanji was forced to admit defeat. His only method of fighting had been rendered ineffective, and biting the swordsman's tongue, had it been possible, wasn't an option. Much as he wanted the bastard dead right now...well...he didn't exactly want to kill him either. Therefore, Sanji's only logical option was to lie back and think of All Blue*, so to speak, and wait until Zoro released him.

And wait.

And wait.

And wait.

.....

Ok...would it really be so bad if Sanji decided to kiss Zoro back? For purposes related only to boredom, you'll no doubt understand.

When Zoro detached suddenly from Sanji's lips, still parted and moist with the swordsman's saliva, it left the cook panting and gasping like a fish (albeit a very attractive one) but Zoro didn't give Sanji any time to catch his breath before he bent his head to catch the skin of a pale neck gently between his teeth.

"What the hell do you-ngh!"

The protest cut off as a spasm of pleasure shot straight through Sanji's midriff. Sensing conflict, Zoro had moved lower to _that_ spot on his throat and started to suck, causing the cook to arch his back sharply and press them flush against one another.

The attack left a dark, rather noticeable mark on Sanji's pale skin but it was ignored as Zoro released Sanji's hands to grasp his slender hips before heading further south, trailing light butterfly kisses over a prominent collar bone...down to a clothed nipple... then stomach...abdomen...hip...

Sanji sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall as he awaited the inevitable: the fumbling of a belt buckle, a rasping zipper and a rustle of cloth, all preceding a hot wet mouth coaxing, teasing him into an erection before further similar ministrations made him limp again just as fast. After that his one leg would be slung over Zoro's shoulder, even as they stood, and more cloth would rustle, but only briefly, before Sanji was entered...then entered again... and again...and again as Zoro fucked him into oblivion. Sanji didn't even want to consider the aftermath.

He wondered if, after this, the incident on Omatsuri Island was supposed to be "forgotten" and never spoken of again. As if that were possible. The sharp sting of betrayal still lingered with Sanji, whether his lover intended it or not.

A tentative clearing of a throat from somewhere around his waist drew Sanji's attention back to reality.

"Oi, love-cook...Sanji?"

It took a few seconds for the brooding cook to realise that the kisses were no longer being administrated, but when he did and finally looked down he was startled to see Zoro with his green-haired head buried into his, Sanji's, shirt-clad navel. The swordsman was down on one knee before the cook, no longer quite between his legs, and clinging to his waist like a drowning man to a buoy. Sanji swallowed, unsettled by this new situation.

"What?"

A pause, then a garbled reply.

"Ahshudnapushedyuhunderlifesaverbakatislanddurinrace."

"...what?!" A deep breath fluttered against Sanji's belly.

"I...I shouldn't...I shouldn't have pushed you under that lifesaver...back at...the island during that...that race."

"I...marimo..."

"Listen...it was weak and vindictive of me to do that...I shouldn't have let those stupid geezers even get to me...but I did and I did something stupid because of it...and for that...I'm sorry." Sanji gazed down in shock.

_Is Zoro..._apologizing _to me?_

As if hearing Sanji's inner thoughts, the swordsman removed his head from its resting spot to catch the cook's gaze with his own. His gray eyes were solemn, unclouded with lust, and his face, to the casual observer, seemed as stoic as ever but Sanji, who was much more than that, saw just how troubled the other man really was. Not to mention how vulnerable.

"Sanji...will you...no...Can you ever forgive me?"

Another pregnant pause. And then...

"Of course."

"Do you mean that?"

This time Sanji didn't hesitate. Looking Zoro dead in the eye he said:

"I do...Zoro".

That was all the convincing Zoro needed before he dragged his cook to the floor in front of him and grinned.

"So where were we...Question?"

"Oi oi, don't you go giving me new pet names without my say so, shitty swordsman. Why the hell did you attack me before eh?" Zoro had the decency to look sheepish.

"Yeah well, I know how difficult you can get..."

"Oi!"

"...so I figured it was a good way to get your attention with as little hassle as possible." Sanji stared at him.

"Just tapping me on the shoulder and coming straight out with it would have worked just as well, you know."

"I guess but I'm not exactly the most verbal of men am I, and you'd have probably put your foot through my head like a pissy, PMSing chick before I got a single word in. Besides, it worked didn't it?" Sanji let the jab slide (_just this once, damn it_) as he cocked his head to one side and appraised his lover.

_What a cutie._

"Yeah," muttered Sanji, looping his arms around Zoro's neck and smiling, "It did."

Zoro smirked and moved in to press their lips together once more. The kisses were tender at first, soft slow, considerate, gentle.

Wet too.

Then as time went on they became more heated, involving tongues and teeth.

Still wet though, even more so now.

Sanji decided to ignore the blatant rope of saliva that connected the two when the cook suddenly yanked away, holding a puzzled Zoro at arm's length, as a sudden thought jarred his mind.

"How the fuck does a verbally retarded thug like you know a big word like "vindictive" anyway?"

Zoro reddened, a dark flush spreading across his tan cheeks like wildfire.

"Shut up aho-cook!" He silenced Sanji with a particularly hard nip on his bottom lip before following it up by sucking on his tongue. Sanji also let this slide (_never again, damn it_) and was content to submit to Zoro's extensive exploration of his mouth.

Then the swordsman's hand slid quietly under Sanji's dress shirt to fondle and pinch a rosy nipple. Sanji's eyes shot open at this and he moaned, wanting a little more of that and then some.

_Ahh ah...that's good...do that again...ah...ah...yes...like that...damn damn ooh, fuck yes..._

And then, inexplicably, his gaze landed on the immense pile of washing up still left on the counter, or, more specifically, a food-encrusted spatula that jutted out of the heap, seemingly taunting him with its metallic greasiness.

Suddenly, the cook had an idea.

"Oi, one more thing..."

"Fuck, cook, you're killing me here...if it's another one of your smart ass comments..."

"Hush marimo-kun," Sanji interrupted, "I have come to a conclusion."

"A...conclusion?"

'Yes...a conclusion.

"...what kind of conclusion?"

"Well, it seems to me, that although there is no questioning that I have, without a doubt, most definitely, most positively..."

"Get on with it cook."

"...shut up...one hundred percent forgiven you for what you did..."

Zoro swallowed and looked uncertain. Sanji just smiled.

"...I have come to the conclusion that you should be punished."

Zoro gave a blank stare.

"Punished?" He repeated.

"Oh yes, Zoro-kun...punished," echoed Sanji in a voice much deeper, more sultry and seductive, all the while his finger trailing suggestively over Zoro's bicep and his mouth curved into a coyly mischievous smile.

Zoro's eyes widened before a deviant grin crept across his face and he leaned in closer.

"Oh really, love-cook...tell me more."

Sanji chuckled, and leaned in as if to whisper filthy things into the other man's ear.

-----X3-----

Five minutes later found the swordsman up to his elbows in soapy water and dirty dishes. The cook stood behind him, relaxing against the table top as he puffed happily on a cancer stick (he'd forgotten about that emergency pack he kept under the sink).

"You fucking bastard curlicue! This was _not _the sort of punishment I had in mind!"

"Oh hush, shitty marimo. The more you talk, the fewer dishes get done and the longer it takes you to do them...means less time you get screwing me into the table."

Had Sanji ever wondered before in his life if there existed a force that could to the tedious task of washing up at near the speed of light, he found out his answer right there and then.

-----X3-----

Ah, don't you just love how sadistic Sanji is? X3 I sure do.

*A paraphrase of the term "Lie back and think of England". For those of you who don't know, this comes from the fact that women back in the medieval ages and perhaps a little later (when this saying first appeared) than that, were not supposed to enjoy sex ('twas a sin apparently) and their only reason for having it was to bring forth babies into the world to further serve their country. Therefore when the guy was being as premature and rough as he wanted (selfish bastards...pardon mon français), the poor girl was supposed to lie back and think only of benefitting her country.

Ahhh, gotta love us Brits eh? *eye roll*


End file.
